As the mother of five children ages 28 down to 9, I've had a lot of years to think about Santa and Baby Jesus and how to present them to my children. I gave my life to Christ at age 6, a very solid, real decision, and this has colored much of my understanding of Christmas and other holidays. I remember the shock of looking out my bedroom door and finding my dad wrapping Christmas presents, but all it really did was confirm my suspicions. I don't remember how old I was when that happened, but I must have been pretty young. It certainly didn’t shake my faith in Christ, though.
With my own children, Santa has always been a fun part of Christmas, but not the focus. I’ve always told them that I discuss their presents with Santa because he can’t bring a gift I don’t approve of, and that he really doesn’t see them when they are sleeping but God does, but I admit to telling them that I’m going to the North Pole when I’m really out shopping late at night. This year was the first that I let any of my children actually talk to a Santa. My littlest daughter, Joy, is nine and had a conversation with a lonely, photo opportunity Santa who very quietly talked about her pets and her day. When he asked what she wanted for Christmas, she said that whatever her mother said would be fine. Good girl. We walked away talking about how he seemed like a real Santa because he had a real beard and a kind heart.
My Christmas tree is covered mostly in snowmen, snowflakes, bells and pipe cleaner icicles (we live in Southern California). I like sparkle at Christmas time. It’s beautiful and bright against the early darkness. And there’s a cross hanging near the top. There are no angels because I don’t believe lovely, feminine angels reflect the Biblical descriptions. I’ve never heard anyone else say that they don’t like nativities, but I don’t particularly. It isn’t just that the three wise men come way too early or the beautiful angel hanging above them. It’s Baby Jesus.
Some Christians never seem to outgrow the Baby Jesus. He’s all light and love and answered prayers and sweet songs and happy endings. They overlook the bloodbath that happened when Herod had all boy babies under age two murdered. They ignore the shame that Joseph stood up against for Mary. We want the soft, sweet religion that a Baby brings, not the hard, sacrificial religion that Almighty God invokes. I don’t think nativities are wrong; I just think we need to remember that the nativity leads to the ultimate sacrifice when God Himself took our punishment and opened the way for us to step into His Presence again.
I have a friend who doesn’t have a Christmas tree. She has a Christmas cross. A large, wooden cross wrapped in evergreens and lights and decorated with baubles. And that is so, so very wrong. In her attempt to remind her family that Christmas leads to the cross, she’s reduced it to a spectacle. The cross is a reminder of death: our death from sin, our separation from God, and Christ’s atonement through his bloody, violent, pain-scorched sacrifice. If she truly wanted a vibrant display of joyful anticipation, she should have an empty tomb display. Our jubilation is in the Resurrection, not the cross.
In the US we are comfortable Christians. We complain that our rights are being trampled on when someone says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” or when a festival has holiday trees instead of Christmas trees. We are forgetful that in other countries there are Christians who don’t debate lawn ornaments or Santa stories because they are busy praying for protection as they worship a holy God.
The American, mid-winter holiday celebration includes Santa Claus, a jolly man who brings presents to some fortunate children on the shortest day of the year. The older I get, the more I realize how many children only know Christmas from school activities and television shows. Too many come from homes where they aren’t loved or cherished. They go hungry. They are afraid. They already know that Santa isn’t real. My heart breaks with sadness for these poor, little ones. But depriving my child of fun and happiness doesn’t change their circumstances. Perhaps by teaching my daughter about loving and giving to others, perhaps by strengthening her own sense of being loved, she will be able to love others more open-heartedly. Perhaps the joy in our Christmas celebration will help her to understand the greater joy we have in our redemption through Christ’s death and resurrection.
And in my house, Santa shows up, too. We “play Santa” when we buy special gifts for one another or when we donate gifts to a toy drive. We pretend an airplane is Rudolph. We read “Polar Express” and sing “Up on the Housetop.” Someday she’ll be burdened with trials and deadlines. She’ll know sadness and despair. But for one night a year, while she’s still little, she can have sleigh bells.
